Orange Roses and Coriander
by Lara Isley
Summary: Regis and his persuasive powers, during his time with the succubus in Toussaint. [OneShot]


**Disclaimer: I own nothing, save my imagination.**

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It was the full moon. Clusters of fireflies danced lazily over the stream, shimmering in the shadows. The stream's bed of smooth, pale sandstone cut a pretty wound through the grasses of the Toussaint countryside.

Rhianon crossed the water with a playful leap, turning back on one cloven hoof to look at him. The moonlight worshipped her, the untamed grass teased her and the fireflies were a bioluminescent halo around her ash blonde hair. Usually she wore nothing but a complex ensemble of necklaces, made from amethyst, topaz and obsidian. For him, she had adorned her hips with a metallic belt, the alloy of which wasn't familiar to any of her other lovers. She donned it solely for him. He was intimately aware as to why.

Regis didn't need to leap playfully over the stream, he simply became one with the air and reappeared inches away from the succubus. As her full lips arched upwards into a smile, she danced nimbly out of his reach, her delicate tail caressing the skin of his right hand. He followed her towards the dark, whispering trees. Tiny shadows gathered in the dimples in the small of her back, then others dappled her shoulders. Soon she was entirely embraced beneath the canopy.

Rhianon had never taken him outside the city before. The fact that she had, along with her subtle change in attire, boded well for what Regis intended to ask her.

Putting that thought out of his mind, he continued to catch up with her. That tail of hers touched his hand once again, only this time it wrapped around his wrist and guided his fingers to her waist.

Rhianon took her time strolling through the woods. A wintry breeze tumbled through it, but the cold bothered neither of them. Regis spoke, as he most often liked to do, and Rhianon listened with an enchanting smile on her face. Despite being the quieter of the two, Regis knew if she was bored of the conversation, she would simply change it. When she did reply to him, her voice sounded like the tumble of piano keys.

"Did the witcher take up that contract you mentioned, then?" she asked.

"At present, your life isn't in any danger," said Regis. "But said witcher is being placed under a lot of pressure from the Duchess to carry out her wishes."

"I wonder, if the witcher knew how many lovers she's had, would he put her heart on a platter too?" Rhianon mused, her large, brown eyes alight with humour.

"There will be no hearts on platters, I assure you," said Regis.

"Yes, but I'm talking principles here," Rhianon simpered.

"Would the Duchess's heart on a platter make you so very happy?" Regis asked.

"If I asked you to, would you kindly arrange that for me, as a love token?" Rhianon fluttered her long eyelashes.

"You know I wouldn't."

Rhianon laughed a diminuendo and swiftly removed herself from his grasp. She made a great show of being offended, yet the smile remained on her face.

"It isn't far now," she told him. "You don't have to wear that human face anymore."

Moments later, a small, moonlit clearing parted the woods around them. At its centre was a hillock, on top of which grew wild bushes of amaranth. Their bundled flowers still hung like grapes despite the season.

It was under their large, drooping leaves that Rhianon led Regis. He could see they disguised the entrance to a passageway. Rhianon took him softly by the hand and led him down the steep slope. He had no trouble keeping his balance, or seeing her figure in the dark passage, but even so the ground levelled out and once more he saw the glow of bioluminescence.

The rough walls were covered in moss and bright, bluish green fungi. The fungi illuminated a spacious cavern, hung extravagantly with wreaths of flowers. There were mayflowers and lime blossom, moonflowers and mauve carnations. It was a place of exquisitely seductive perfume and colour.

Rhianon's bed was a four-poster affair carved from pine. It was veiled with orange roses and flowering coriander, spread with richly spun blankets and expensive furs. Where she had acquired it all, or who had acquired it all for her, Regis didn't care to ask.

By now, they didn't need to use words. It had only taken him one night to figure out what Rhianon liked, roughly speaking, even though he never risked doing the same thing more than twice. He tried to forget that he had a second agenda. It wasn't difficult, losing himself in her touch, her scents and sounds. All they wore was discarded somewhere beneath them, save for her belt which, for the moment, was otherwise occupied.

As hours meant nothing to him, he wasn't concerned with the moon passing through the sky. The sole thing that mattered was making Rhianon believe the earth moved each time she said his name. He allowed himself, briefly, to wonder how many other lovers she dedicated an entire night to, but never did he let her entertain the idea of leaving him.

The succubus wasn't selfish by nature, so none of his efforts went unrewarded.

When the first chorus of birdsong drifted through her dwelling, Rhianon didn't have the breath to reply. Regis's fingertips were buried in her blonde waves, stroking the tender skin at the base of one of her horns.

"Stop it, before you cut off all my hair," Rhianon muttered with a smile on her face.

"I'm being ever so gentle."

"Gentle? I had better find my belt..."

"Good luck with that," said Regis. The belt had been flung to the far side of the cave some time ago. Even so, he replaced the touch of his fingers with the touch of his lips. Rhianon curled up closer to him, the moisture of her skin a comfort. When the lingering reverie of their intimacy left her, she pushed him away and sat on one side of the bed.

"I was hoping to see your wings," she sighed despondently, stretching out the supple arches of her back. "I've never seen a vampire's wings up close before."

"All you needed to do was ask," said Regis.

"I shouldn't _have_ to ask," Rhianon replied. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a challenge in her gaze. "You should _know_."

"If that was what you wanted, then you shouldn't have used your belt," Regis shrugged. He reached out lazily to run his nails along her spine. He felt a satisfied shudder pass through her.

"I barely even used it," said Rhianon. "It'd be immoral to restrict hands such as yours."

With those words, Regis found he was once again straddled and had a very beautiful image hanging before him. Rhianon took up his hands and leant over him.

"Show me," she whispered, her great, brown eyes imploring.

"The next time the moon comes up," Regis told her.

Rhianon drew back suddenly, but before she could part from him he seized hold of her and twisted, reversing their positions. She squirmed and laughed and wrestled against him. After narrowly avoiding a misdirected swipe from her horns, he relented and set her free.

"Meet me just as the sun sets," he said again. "If you aren't impressed, you never have to see me after."

"Regis, my sweet, don't be so melodramatic," Rhianon chuckled, taking his face in her hands. She pressed their lips together repeatedly, as if reminding him what he'd be missing.

"What do you say to my proposal?" he asked.

"I certainly hope that wasn't a _proposal_ , I get so many from the men," said Rhianon. "Some of which I intended to see tomorrow night."

"Don't."

"Huh, that's what they say too."

"They aren't me."

"Which is precisely what makes them so appealing," Rhianon grinned.

"Name one thing they can do for you that I can't," said Regis.

"Stop it. I don't like discussing my lovers with one another, especially in my own bed."

"Ah, but you've already made an exception for me regarding that. You must be able to make one more."

Rhianon stared at him levelly.

"I know what you're going to ask of me," she said.

"Do tell," Regis smiled, teeth and all.

"You want to have me all to yourself," said Rhianon.

"You aren't wrong."

The succubus tossed her head further into her pillows and laughed.

"Only until the end of winter," Regis went on. "How many weeks would that be?"

"Too many."

"I doubt it. Tell me what you'd like in compensation."

" _You_ tell _me_ ," Rhianon returned huskily.

He brought himself closer to her and whispered everything she wanted to hear. When her eyelids drifted shut, he knew his words weren't in vain. Then he asked if any of the men in Toussaint had offered her so much.

"Hold me, and let me consider," said Rhianon.

Regis did as requested, debating with himself whether he should have offered so much himself. If it spared her the fate of becoming the victim of a witcher's contract, he decided he could. Not because of any deluded love for Rhianon, not because he had any emotional attachment towards her whatsoever, but simply because he didn't view it as just. His rational motive was, potentially, the one thing that might move her to accept his offer.

"Until the end of winter," Rhianon murmured.

"Do I take that as an agreement?" Regis asked.

"You should," said the succubus. "But I warn you, with the first spring breeze I feel, our little arrangement will be swept away."

"Thank you," said Regis.

"Don't thank me. I'm going to make you earn it," Rhianon sighed. She turned away from him and rested her tousled head in the crook of one arm.

Without saying anything, Regis knew it was his time to depart. As soon as he had arranged himself as he had been before, he made for the egress.

"Tonight, Regis," Rhianon reminded him. "Come here. Impress me."

"I shan't forget," he told her.

Then he left the bioluminescent cavern underneath the amaranth bushes. The fireflies had retired for the night and the trees were still, with the birds chirruping among their higher branches. As Regis drifted like fog back into the streets of Beauclair, the violent pink of a sunrise was bleeding into the sky.

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 **Author's Note: Feedback makes me giddy with excitement, so feel free to make my day!  
** **Also, if you'd like to know why I got all botanical when describing Rhianon's abode, just look up what all the flowers mean in plant symbolism.  
And thank you for reading.**


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